All That Is Not Lost
by Jander Panell
Summary: He had thought all was lost. Then he woke up on a strange beach in a strange land, a land where the people fought wars with massive machines. Why did he end up in this land, and how is his destiny tied to it? AU, MECHAS, MarVex, Zemyx, AkuRoku, XemSaix
1. Prologue: When The Gods Are Silent

**All That Is Not Lost**

Prologue: When The Gods Are Silent

Pairings: MarVex (I think), Zemyx (of sorts), AkuRoku (of sorts), XemSaix (also of sorts). And you'll soon see what I mean by "of sorts"

Rated: M

Warnings: MECHAS, first and foremost. Yes, KH characters piloting mechas. Don't say I didn't warn you. Paganism, religious themes, mature themes in general, graphic scenes, slash, violence, AU-ish-ness, and just plain weirdness.

Summary: He had thought all was lost. Then he woke up on a strange beach in a strange land, a land where the people fought wars with massive machines. Why did he end up in this land, and how is his destiny tied to it? MECHAS, MarVex, Zemyx, AkuRoku, XemSaix

Notes: I don't know what inspired me to write this piece of complete, utter, bizarre random-ness which I may or may not even continue. Well, all right, there are two major factors that inspired me:

a) I discovered an _excellent _author (who many of you may already know), TheCrimsonLunaDiviner, who writers some wonderful MarVex. In fact, her writing has inspired me to ship the pairing in the first place, whereas before I wasn't that fond of it. Now that I see it can be done well, I'm trying my hand at it myself. (That being said, this prologue is more Zemyx-y than anything).

b) I've recently gotten back into mecha anime, after briefly falling in love with _Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann _(PIERCE THE HEAVENS WITH YOUR DRILL!!!) and then falling out of love after it ended. Then I found _Gundam 00, _which I watched mostly because the character designer is Yun Kouga, but it was pretty decent. And then I watched all of _Vision of Escaflowne. _So now I'm doing mechas. In feel, this will probably be more similar to _Escaflowne, _becae it's "fantasy" mechas versus "scifi" mechas, but I'll give my own unique spin to the mecha angle.

This is the prologue, and it might not be so sensical right now (and doesn't involve Marluxia or Vexen at all), but don't worry, all will be explained in chapters next...if I ever get around to writing them. This was entirely spur of the moment, so who knows if I'll continue.

* * *

_Don't..._

_Don't go..._

You know that I have to. You know what _she _said. There is no victory without sacrifice.

_So? You still don't--this isn't--if you go out today, you will _die!

There is a high possibility that'll happen. I'm not denying it.

_Then why go! Why why why, _why _go and leave me? Don't you ever think about what's important?_

I should be asking _you _that question. You know what's important. You know there are things out there that matter more than you and me. You know, you _know _what we're fighting for.

_That may be so...but..the thought of losing you...it's more than I can bear._

I know.

_I wish I could fight alongside you._

...you're not useless because you can't fight. Stay here, stay here and wait for me. The thought that I'll have you to come back to--that only makes me fight harder. The thought that I'm creating a better world for _you_.

_Say what you like...._

What? What is it?

_She told you, "There is no victory without sacrifice."_

Yeah, and...?

_"When the time comes, what will you be willing to sacrifice?"_

....you know what I said in response, don't you?

_Yes. I already know. Because I know _you.

I have to go.

_I know... I know. Fight well. Fight for me._

I will.

_...I...I truly do...I love you._

The feeling's mutual.

_Please come back alive._

I'll try.

* * *

"There is no victory without sacrifice. When the time comes, what will you be willing to sacrifice?"

"That's easy. Do you even have to ask? Myself, of course."

* * *

He lay on his back, envisioning the battlefield.

It would be splattered crimson with blood. The smell of burning--of burning flesh, of burning hair, of burning metal--would hang thick in the air like smoke, heavy and hot. And the machines...the great machines, joints screeching as they advanced on one another, swinging their weapons with hisses through the air...

One of them would be _his._

_Please don't die, _he thought, sending what had to be his hundredth prayer to the sky. He didn't know if it would be answered. Lately, very few of his prayers had been answered at all. He hadn't lost faith--not yet. Gods were not obliged to care about the clashes between mortals. To the mortals, this was the greatest war they had ever fought--but could gods even differentiate between mortal wars? They must appear like ants, scampering over one another and dying quickly for no reason. Humans didn't worry about battles between ants.

Gods didn't worry about battles between humans.

Still, he prayed. He prayed as he lifted himself from the hard pallet, not because it was uncomfortable, but because he couldn't sleep--not when images of the battle constantly tumbled through his mind. He prayed, softly, in his mind, as he parted the curtain dividing his sleeping area from the rest of the hall. The hall was divided by multiple plain white curtains into individual sleeping areas, but most were unoccupied. During battles, most priests congregated in the central temple to send their combined prayers for victory together. He had been exempted this time on account of his illness, giving him the privacy he wanted. The privacy he needed.

_Please do not let him die. Do not let the one to whom I have pledged my heart die, _he repeated as he stepped through the archway between the sleeping hall and the temple proper. _Do not let him die._

He didn't pray for victory, because it struck him as a selfish and silly thing to ask a god for--what did a _god _care which side won? The other priests didn't much like this line of thinking, pointing out that the enemy consisted of infidels so the gods would of course care if they were struck down or not, but he had always been of the opinion that people were but ants to the gods. Why did the gods care if the black ants defeated the red ants, or vice versa?

"_With that worldview, you might as well not pray at all," _his priest-mentor had snapped. "_Why become a priest? Why serve a god that doesn't care?"_

He replied with firm conviction, "_Gods do not care about people in groups. What the gods care about are people as individuals."_

Which was why the only prayer he sent was for one person only. _Emyd of Lantea. Do not let him die._

The open walkway that connected the residential halls with the rest of the temple was chilly, because it was still early in the morning. He clutched his robe--made of white linen, trimmed with black; the robe of a novice in the Temple of Reason--tighter to his body, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. A cool early morning breeze ruffled the slate-colored strands of hair falling into his eyes; he shook his head irritably to dislodge them. It was probably a bad idea to be outside with his fever as high as it was, but the cold helped clear his mind.

He nonetheless breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped inside the warmth of the temple's easternmost altar, used only by novices and priestesses. Much to his disconcertation, the altar wasn't empty--he'd been hoping to be alone, like the last time that the gods had spoken directly to him.

A girl stood before the altar--it was a small one, bearing a single statue of the Lord of Reason and four march-fire candles. The altar in the central temple reached the ceiling and was festooned with over a hundred candles. He had never liked praying there, because it felt too public--there was always a crowd of priests there, each asking his own questions and sending his own offerings to the gods. To the gods, it must resemble little more than a flock of birds bickering over fish.

The girl turned to him--she was a slimly built, small teenage girl with long blond hair and bright blue eyes in too innocent a face. Her plain white robe proclaimed her an initiate priestess. He lowered his head politely to her.

"Good morning, Namine."

"Ah--Ienzo!" cried Namine, stepping back in surprise. "Should you really be up and about? Or has your fever gone done?"

Ienzo shook his head but gave her a pointed glare that clearly said that he was not to be bothered. She stepped aside, though looked a little uneasy; probably wondering why, if he'd expended the effort to get up in the first place, he didn't go join the other priests.

He closed his eyes as he knelt over the altar, holding his hands over his heart in prayer. Once more, images of the battlefield came rushing in--of the cracked earth, the cawing carrion birds, the great machines shaped in mockery of the human form, lurching towards one another and clashes their massive swords--

One of them would be _his. _Emyd's. A machine made from blue-tinged steel, tall and graceful in form, wielding a longsword. Though he didn't want to, Ienzo imagined the machine splattered with blood, its sword broken, lying useless and battered in a ditch...and its pilot--

_Stop. Do not think this way. You must not. He _will _survive. You must believe that._

He didn't even realize he had begun praying out loud--usually, he kept his prayers to himself, especially if there were others around, but something about the atmosphere in the altar compelled him to say them aloud. "Please, Lord of Reason, protect him. Protect him, protect Emyd. Protect him so that he can sing another day...protect him so he will have a life with me..."

No one answered. He had been expecting it, yet he still felt a faint stab of disappointment. The last time that he'd stood in this temple, he _had _heard voices back, had even _seen _the Lord of Reason. A figure in white, glowing even in the dark altar...he had approached Ienzo, step by silent step, extending a glowing hand towards the young priest...had explained in quiet words the way the gods saw the word. That gods answered to individuals with names, faces, and histories; not to mobs and masses.

But now there was nothing, nothing but the chill silence of an early morning. Ienzo lowered his head, letting his hair descend around his eyes, trembling inside. No one was answering. No one cared...

"Protect him," he whispered one final time.

When the gods were silent, it was all he could do.

* * *

That's all for the prologue. I was going to call him "Myde", because that's one of the more common names in fandom, but meh, I thought "Emyd" had a more poetic sound. And I really don't know why I'm using their Other names, except that I feel they're more compatible with a fantasy setting (all those "x"es would be just weird...). And there are vague connections to canon, mostly with Marluxia's character (if I ever get around to chapter one)...but we'll see. A lot of the plot is very iffy.

I'm aware that I'm probably making a lot of my watchers very angry because I've been updating a lot these past two days but I haven't done a single thing for my most popular story, _Tainted but Beautiful. _Feel free to castigate me. I've started chapter twenty-six, but hit a massive block for some reason...I think I've lost my taste for ginormous chapters, but unless I want to make the work even longer, I _need _long chapters to finish it...so we'll see. I actually wrote this because of my block on _Tainted._

And as always, check out "The Chrysalis Project" on my profile. All reviews are appreciated!


	2. One: The Beach of Misfortune

**All That Is Not Lost**

Chapter One: The Beach of Misfortune

Pairings: MarVex, Zemyx (of sorts), AkuRoku (of sorts), XemSaix (also of sorts). And you'll soon see what I mean by "of sorts"

Rated: M

Warnings: MECHAS, first and foremost. Yes, KH characters piloting mechas. Don't say I didn't warn you. Paganism, religious themes, mature themes in general, graphic scenes, slash, violence, AU-ish-ness, and just plain weirdness.

Summary: He had thought all was lost. Then he woke up on a strange beach in a strange land, a land where the people fought wars with massive machines. Why did he end up in this land, and how is his destiny tied to it? MECHAS, MarVex, Zemyx, AkuRoku, XemSaix

Notes: Surprisingly fast update! I've been working a lot on this story, actually, and have become inordinately fond of it. And to think I first only wrote it to destroy my block on _Tainted but Beautiful. _Well, that block sadly _hasn't _been destroyed yet, but at least I'm working on another story. I actually have a fairly good idea of where this story is going, and I do believe it'll probably end up the most epic thing I've ever written. If I ever get around to finishing...

This chapter finally introduces our protagonist, Marluxia. Note that the prologue was actually taking place _in media res_--that is, it depicts an event in the middle of the story (or more accurately, near the end), rather than something that happens before. Just to clear up any confusion.

There will be some OC's in this part, but I promise they won't be Mary Sues. In fact, they're pretty unappealing people. Necessary for the plot, though.

* * *

"I would sacrifice myself. If it ever came down to that..._I _would die so _they _could live."

The man smiled. "You are a very wise child. And you're right. So that they could have lived happy lives. That's why I died and that's why you will die. For _them. _Make sure your sacrifice is worthwhile, please."

"I will."

* * *

He couldn't remember a thing.

Well--that was not strictly true. There were _some _things he remembered...but only the things in front of him. Only the things he'd seen and heard and felt in the few days since he'd first opened his eyes, and found himself--

Here. Wherever "here" might be.

A beach, sprawling long and seemingly endless in every direction. A beach, glowing gently under the moonlight, sparkling almost achingly bright in the sunlight. It was not a beautiful beach by any regard: the water was thick and heavy, as if polluted, and lapped against the sand with sick sucking sounds, as if trying to drag the grains of sands down to the darkness with it. And there was...there was trash strewn all around. Papers and plastics crumpled beyond recognition, floating in the sludgy water; twisted pieces of metal littering the beachside...

And the _machines. _Whatever they were. There were many of them, many rusted-over parts, and they were _huge. _Huge, dented shapes teetering crazily one atop the other, half in and half out of the water, forming crude shelters in the spaces between and beneath them. Those spaces were where he'd taken from hiding, especially in the day when the sun beat down hot and merciless. He didn't know what they were, but got the impression of immense beauty from them--well, they at least _had _been beautiful. There were curving, organic shapes, reminding him strangely of massive bones, and there were large sheets of battered metal, and there were even knight-like helmets as tall as his torso. When he bent close to them, he could see that the parts that weren't encrusted with rust, barnacles, and seaweed were made of a lustrous metal with a pearl-like finish. Many of them, when the sunlight caught them, glinted in iridescent colors: coral pink, seafoam green, pre-dawn gray, steel blue...

The helmets were all elaborately designed; some even had spikes and horns, and in one wonderful case, he found a hemlet shaped like a sun disk radiating knife-edged rays. All the parts--helmets, bones, metal sheets--were often decorated with elaborate filigree, forming shapes of dolphins, dancers, suns and stars, and (filling him with strange delight, though he didn't know why) flowers.

Whatever these things were...great care had been put into making them. They reminded him of giant suits of armor; he wondered, then, if the people here were giants.

He hadn't seen people so far, though. No one but himself. The unfortunate thing was that he didn't remember much about who he himself was. Sometimes, he'd stare at his own reflection in the small pools of still water formed by intersecting metal bones; sometimes he stared for hours at an end, hoping that seeing his own face would trigger a memory. But nothing ever came, not even the slightest hint of recognition. The face staring back at him with confused dark blue eyes, framed with tousled pale pink hair...offhandedly, he thought it was a beautiful face, in a feminine way--when he first saw his face, he'd had to look back down at his own body, covered in a tattered black shirt and pants, to reassure himself that he was indeed male.

It frustrated him, how nothing was coming to his memory. Not even the faintest impressions of a past life. Had he lived here before? Or had he only recently arrived here? It certainly didn't _look _familiar to him...but then again, who was he to judge when his own face wasn't familiar to him?

He didn't know how long he had been on this beach, either. Certainly couldn't have been longer than a day or two, because otherwise he was certain he'd have died from dehydration. Already, though, he was starting to feel the lack of food and water--the lack of water above all. His throat felt like sandpaper, and when he ran his tongue over his lips, he could feel the skin peeling and cracking. The constant salt taste heavy in the air did not help. A part of him was already beginning to consider drinking the sea water, even though he knew it would do more harm than good.

But how did he know that? If he didn't even know his name...how could he trust his other knowledge?

He shuddered as he thought this, and huddled up tighter in his favorite spot--a patch of space formed under a metal plate that had been bent almost like a tent, blocking out much of the sun. The shade _was _rather dark, but was lit up more than the other patches of shade by a strange round jewel, about the size of an apple, lying in the sand beneath the metal plate. It was a deep, rich rose-pink in color, and carved very delicately into the shape of a rose as well; he liked it because of that. Strangely, the jewel seemed to glow with a soft pinkish light of its own that made the darkness somewhat more bearable.

Just as he began turning the jewel over in his own, intently examining it for the umpteenth time, a voice rang through the air.

"--told you there's nothing _here, _dammit!"

He froze instantly, a chill running down his spine despite the midday heat. People...would they be giants? Immediately he hunkered down even lower in his hiding place, not wanting to be caught and eaten by a giant.

He heard a series of crunching sounds--it sounded like people walking across the jumbled mess of metal parts. The voices continued to ring out. When he heard them speak, he strangely let himself relax. They were fairly high, young-sounding voices--not one of the speakers could be in their twenties. They certainly weren't the deafening booms he'd been expecting from a giant...

"Oh, shut up, Jian, I _know _when there's good shit here, I saw some yesterday! It was a Core that really did work!" This was even more high-pitched than the first--a female voice, he wagered.

"You're full of bullshit, Impact, there ain't anything good here. You were probably too blind to see the Core was cracked or something."

"Yeah? Tiger saw it too!"

"I did? I don't remember seeing a Core..." Another male voice, somewhat higher than the first.

"See! You're leading us on a damn wild goose chase. I've about had enough of this, Impact, and I'm fucking sick and tired of how you keep leading us to _this _fucking beach of all the beaches out there."

"Look, I just thought it was smart! I mean, 'cause no one goes here so we'd get our own pick, and lookit this, you can't deny it's good shit. All these Formhel parts! We could get rich off 'em!"

"Ya know, there's a fucking _good _reason why everyone avoids this beach. Ain't no mistake this is called the 'Beach of Misfortune'..."

"Fuck you, I know what I'm doing!"

The more he listened, the more he found himself wanting to know who these people--these _children_--were. He was sure by this time that they weren't giants. Slowly, he began turning the direction of the voices, wanting to cast a glimpse--

But quite suddenly found three people standing directly in front of him.

He stared at them--the first people he'd seen on this desolate shore; the first people he could even _remember _seeing. There were two boys and a girl--one boy was tall and wiry in build, with spiked pale hair and a thin face and twitchy manner that was reminiscent of a rat, while the other boy was shorter and more round in build, as well as younger-looking. The girl stood in the center front, arms akimbo--she was dark-skinned, small, and angular in build, with sharp suspicious eyes that glared stared at him. None of them could be any older than fifteen, and all of them were of very normal size.

"Hey," said the tall boy. "There's a person here."

"No shit, Jian," snapped the girl. "Who the fuck are you?"

The pink-haired man didn't say anything, still mute from astonishment. He didn't know what to say, or even what they were here for. He could only stare at them.

"You live here?" said the pudgy boy, bending down so they were eye level.

"N...no." He was surprised by the sound of his own voice--though cracked with thirst, was surprisingly strong and deeper than he'd been expecting. Emoldened, he went on. "No, I don't live here. I don't remember how I got here."

"Oh, well," said the tall boy, Jian. "We're looking for Cores not people, so we'll just leave you on your merry way. Sorry for bothering you, man."

"What?" cried the pudgy boy, who by process of elimination had to be "Tiger". "We can't just leave him, Jian! Look at him--he's dehydrated! We need to give him some water at least, maybe take him back to the city, find a place for him to stay--the Beach of Misfortune's no place for people to live."

Jian shot a glance at Tiger and then at the man and then at something round hanging from his shoulder--a canteen. "Well, guess you've got a point..."

He didn't want to admit to the children how eager he was for a drink, especially when the girl--Impact--was glaring at him so harshly. Still, he found himself appreciating Tiger for his charity, and began clambering out of his hiding spot. Tiger had mentioned something about a "city" as well...maybe he'd find answers there. Maybe he'd come from there.

Just as Jian began unhooking his canteen, Impact spoke sharply. "You've got the Core."

"What?" said Jian, Tiger, and the man at the same time.

"The _Core,_" said Impact impatiently, pointing directly at the man--no, not at _him, _but at what he was clutching in his hand...the rose-shaped gem. He gazed at it as well, surprised to see it--he hadn't realized he'd been holding it.

Jian breathed in sharply, and Tiger gasped. "So there really _was _a Core," whispered the former.

"No shitting," said Impact impatiently. "Now fork it over."

"That's right," said Jian, suddenly withdrawing the canteen. "You give us the Core, and we'll give you the water. We got a deal?"

_What? _Disbelief coursed through his mind. He gazed from the stone to the children and then at the stone again...and tightened his grip around it, so that most of its rosy glow was hidden by his hand. Even as amnesiac and naive as he might be, he knew that the deal Jian was proposing wasn't a fair one. Somehow, he sensed there was more to the rose-shaped gem than what it appeared--clearly the children were treating it as something important. "Core", they called it. "Core" of what?

"Jian! That's not fair!" cried Tiger, looking upset.

"Shut the fuck up, Tiger!" snapped Impact. "C'mon, fork it over, it's not like a hobo like you has any use for that! _I _found the Core, so it's _mine!"_

"No," he said, straightening so that he was fully standing. He was surprised by how much taller he was than the children, even Jian--once more, he felt his confidence rise. "This isn't yours."

"Isn't _yours?" _Impact took a threatening step forward, though seemed to have second thoughts about attacking him. "_I _found it! Losers weepers, finders keepers!"

"Then by that logic," he said, "it would be mine."

"Dammit!" Jian actually stamped his foot into the sand, like a spoiled child. "Do you want a drink or not? 'Cause I've got no fucking problem letting you die, old man--"

"This is valuable?" he said, holding out the gemstone. It felt warm and comfortable in his hand, as if it belonged there and with no one else. His resolve to protect it strengthened. "Then what's to stop you from taking it and then running off and leaving me here?"

"We wouldn't do that!" cried Tiger. Impact stepped hard on his foot.

"Hand it over and we'll talk!" yelled Jian, looking more and more agitated with every passing second. "_Hand the Core the hell over!"_

The sudden power he held over the children amazed him--and, he had to admit, to an extent he _enjoyed _it. They were so _desperate_...allowing a very slight smile to cross his face (even though it tore at his chapped lips), he raised the gem, the Core, over his shoulder.

"If you don't hand me that canteen," he said, "I will throw this into the ocean."

Jian blanched and Impact screamed. Tiger groaned and clutched his head. "C'mon, guys, let's all get along--_aack!"_

He fell hard into the sand, crashing with an uncomfortably loud thud. Impact loomed over him, her fist still raised.

"You're way too soft, you fucking bleeding heart," she snapped. "You're just like _him_--"

The man watched the children impassively, still holding the stone above his head and prepared to hurl it backwards. Truthfully, he _didn't _want to let go of it...and he had to admit that this sudden power, as much as it excited him, frightened him as well. What was he doing, he didn't even know what he'd started...

"Jian! Just what the hell's going on here?"

All heads cracked in the direction of the voice.

A boy came clambering over a pile of broken parts, breathing hard, but pure rage and deadly intent on his face. He appeared around Jian's age, a young teenager with strangely spiked golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Unlike the children, who were dressed in rags, he wore a high-collared gray-and-blue ensemble that had the look of a military uniform. On his head, crushing his hair quite magnificently, was a maroon cap.

He looked much more confident and self-assured than any of the coarse, greedy children--like someone _official, _in a position of authority. He approached the little group, arms akimbo.

"Roxas..." gasped Tiger, sounding joyous.

Jian and Impact's reactions were the complete opposite. Impact hissed like a threatened cat and assumed a fighting stance; Jian folded his arms and shot the boy ("Roxas"?) a glare that could have melted metal.

"I should have known you were up to no good," snapped Roxas, "the instant I saw you cross the barrier to the Beach of Misfortune. So I followed you."

"Great, so you're snitching on your gang now," said Jian, his voice as icy as his glare was burning.

"You're not my gang anymore," said Roxas, straightening himself to his full height--which wasn't that much, but in his uniform, and with his almost martial poise, he presented a much more imposing image than Jian did. "I'm a ranking member of the Youth Patrol. It's my duty to report these things, and you know, it's not exactly safe for any of _you _to come here. There's a reason the Beach is cordoned off."

"Fuck you, Roxas," Jian snarled, balling his hands into fists.

Roxas ignored the curse and continued speaking. "And now I find that not only are you getting yourselves in trouble just by being here, but you're trying to extort from other people as well. Trying to get him to hand over his Core for a drink when you know he's dehydrated? You really are the lowest of the low."

"It ain't his Core," said Impact. "It's mine, I found it."

"No, I don't believe this is yours," said the pink-haired man.

"Leave him alone," Roxas said, addressing Jian and Impact. "Leave, all of you. Go back to picking scraps in the city or other beaches if you really want to continue doing that. Listen, there..." His voice softened, and the light in his eyes became almost--sad. "You don't have to keep doing this, guys. You...you can find a way out. Like I did. The Youth Patrol is always looking for new members. Why not--why not join? Why not live with honor instead of having to steal for food?"

Jian stiffened, his nostrils flaring, while Impact muttered a string of expletives. Tiger lay curled on the ground, shaking his head over and over again, though what he was denying the man couldn't say.

"You don't get it, Roxas," Jian said icily, striding towards the blonde boy. "You don't fucking _get _it. We're a gang. We're _friends. _That's the way we are, and that's the way we ike it. You. _You_--" He jabbed an accusing finger in Roxas's face; Roxas blinked but didn't back off. "You left us. You _betrayed _us. We will never join a traitor."

"Fair enough," said Roxas, his tone sad. "I guess there really is no reasoning with you..."

_Bam. _Roxas fell backwards, blood arcing in the air, and hit a metal bone with an uncomfortably loud thunk. He slid down, but wasn't unconscious--when he looked up, it was to glare at Jian, while wiping blood away from his mouth.

"Let's go," snapped Jian, turning pointedly from Roxas. "Impact! Tiger! Let's get the fuck outta here."

The two quickly obeyed, Impact dashing right up to Jian's side, and Tiger taking some time to haul himself to his feet. As he walked away, he threw Roxas one last, almost longing, glance before running after his departing friends.

Roxas watched them go, his expression unreadable. At length, he sighed and slumped his shoulders, before turning to the pink-haired man.

"Sorry about them..." he said with a grimace, shaking his head. "They were my friends once but I left them for a better crowd, so to speak...anyway, are you okay?"

The man blinked. "Yes..."

"Oh, hey, wait, here..." Roxas quickly came up to him, undoing the canteen that was hanging around his own neck. He lifted up to the man, who gazed at it in confusion before realizing he was supposed to take it.

"Drink all you need," said Roxas. "You really _are _dehydrated...how long were you out here?"

He tried to remember but couldn't. "Two...two days, two nights. I believe."

"Wow." Roxas whistled. "That's a pretty long time. How'd you get here--well, I guess I should save the questions for later."

The man barely heard Roxas's words; he'd unscrewed the lid of the canteen and eagerly lifted it, smiling when he heard the contents sloshing--it was quite full. He eagerly began gulping the water, not caring when it sloshed on his shirt. The water was a bit warm and metallic-tasting, but it had to have been the best water he'd ever drank (then again, he couldn't remember drinking any water, or indeed doing anything, before this beach...). He barely paused for breath as he took greedy gulps of the nourishing liquid, feeling it soothe the aching in his throat, gurgling in his stomach...

"Hey, hey, whoa, slow down," said Roxas. "You'll get sick if you drink too much too quickly..."

He'd already lowered the canteen, though, having drank his full. He wiped his mouth and gazed steadily at Roxas, feeling much better than he had in days. For the first time, he could see himself having the strength to walk away from this strange beach--"The Beach of Misfortune"--and head...where, he didn't know. Jian and his friends had spoken of a "city"...

"Thank you," he said as he handed the canteen back to Roxas. Roxas nodded in acknowledgment.

"No problem," he said. "Well, I guess I'll be going back to the city...you can come with me, if you haven't got anywhere else to go..."

He nodded; ever since he'd first heard of this "city", he'd decided that was where he would be going. Perhaps he'd be able to ask questions of Roxas as well...he was sure he had quite a few. Central of them all...where was he? And what exactly was this "Core" thing?

"Say," said Roxas as he started to walk away. "I haven't got a name yet..."

_A name?_

That was right...he knew he must have a name. But he hadn't been able to remember... He glanced at the jewel, at the Core, in his palm--at its soft pinkish glow, soothing against the harsh light from the sun; at the gentle folds of the carved petals...he remembered that when he'd first seen it he'd marveled at the expert craftmanship that had been put into creating the rose shape.

Something about the rose spoke to him...trembled inside him. He didn't understand it exactly, but he felt very much like he'd stood somewhere else, sometime else, and held a rose--a real, living, blooming rose--just as tenderly as he now held the Core.

It was the first real memory--if he could even call it that--that had risen in him since he'd first awoken on the beach. And with that feeling came something else...the memory, so faint he could barely cling to it, the memory of a voice calling out...calling out what...? Calling to him...a voice...calling...

_Mar...Mar...lu...xia..._

Marluxia?

He met Roxas's gaze--the boy was looking a bit confused, and a bit impatient as well, probably wondering why it was taking so long for his simple question to be answered. But not for much longer. With a strange confidence that seemed to rise from the center of his being, the man squared his shoulders and spoke:

"My name is Marluxia."

* * *

I really do like writing these shorter chapters...hopefully I'll be able to keep all my chapters this short. After the ten-thousand word monstrosities that I wrote for _Tainted but Beautiful_, though, how likely is that?

The pace, at least relationship-wise, will be fairly slow in the beginning, but I promise there's good stuff to come. The next chapter will serve largely as worldbuilding (read, info-dumping...sigh. Hopefully I've gotten better at it, though).

I'm grateful for all the feedback; keep the excellent reviews coming. ^^ And as usual, an obligatory plug for **The Chrysalis Project**. Check that shit out.


	3. Two: Revelations

**All That Is Not Lost**

Chapter Two: Revelations

Pairings: MarVex, Zemyx (of sorts), AkuRoku (of sorts), XemSaix (also of sorts).

Rated: M

Warnings: MECHAS, first and foremost. Yes, KH characters piloting mechas. Don't say I didn't warn you. Paganism, religious themes, mature themes in general, graphic scenes, slash, violence, AU-ish-ness, and just plain weirdness.

Summary: He had thought all was lost. Then he woke up on a strange beach in a strange land, a land where the people fought wars with massive machines. Why did he end up in this land, and how is his destiny tied to it? MECHAS, MarVex, Zemyx, AkuRoku, XemSaix

Notes: AKA the chapter of infodumps. Forgive me for them; I promise I'll never dump as badly in this story as I do here. All this information was necessary and I couldn't figure out a more graceful way to say it. At least I didn't write a prologue going "There is this land called Tarica, where everyone fights with mechas called Formhels, etc. et al ad nauseum."

There's a little bit of a song in the beginning of the chapter that some of you may recognize; the wonderful "All Along The Watchtower" penned by Bob Dylan and covered I-don't-know-how-many-times. I was writing with the epic Battlestar Galactica version in my head, but you can listen to whatever version you like best. That song will only show up more in this story, and may have some plot significance. Consider it an, er, "homage" so to speak, to BSG.

Updates will not be so quick after this. I'm trying so far to do what I was doing for _Tainted, _up until recently--that is, have the entirety of the chapter after the next before I post the next. It's working so far (I've just begun chapter four!), but now that my vacation is drawing to an end, I'll probably have much less time to spare on fanfic. So don't expect more up for a while. Just a heads-up.

* * *

"We are waiting for the battle to start, you see," said the soldier, smiling. _He _smiled at the soldier, too. It had been a while since he had met anyone so friendly and congenial.

"What battle?" he asked.

"_The _battle," said the soldier, suddenly grave. "The ultimate battle when all meet...and _everything _is decided. We've spent our entire lives waiting for this battle to come. We will wait even longer if we must."

* * *

"_There must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief," _hummed the young man, his blonde head lowered in concentration as he strummed the strings of a strange instrument like a lute, only much larger. "_There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief."_

He raised his head to the ceiling rafters, fixing his gaze on the darkened-from-soot lines of wood, on the cracks of sky visible through chinks in the ceiling. He strummed even more insistently on the instrument.

"_Businessmen they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth. None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."_

He kept his gaze fixated on the ceiling, with eyes a color reminiscent of a sparkling sea on a summer day. A slight smile crossed his tanned face as he continued strumming the instrument.

"_No reason to get excited, the thief he kindly spoke--"_

"Emyd!"

"Whoops! Oh--" cried the young man, stopping in mid-note almost dropping the instrument. "Ienzo, is that you?"

"What are you doing?" The door to the cramped bedroom flew open, and a familiar figure stood silhouetted in the entryway--a young man, barely a boy, with slate-blue hair hiding one of his deep blue eyes, his arms folded across a scrawny chest covered by a loose, black-trimmed white robe. The young man, Emyd, allowed his smile to widen.

"Hey there," said Emyd. "Came back from the temple already?"

"Yes," said Ienzo, standing silently in the doorway as Emyd set aside the instrument and approached him. Emyd was somewhat taller than Ienzo, with messy blonde hair done up in a strange style he claimed he'd taken from the natives of the barbarian southern lands, but probably had just made up just to shock others. He was dressed like a peasant in a loose cotton tunic opened in the front, exposing his tanned chest, and baggy trousers, but his subtly confident bearing hinted at a higher birth.

"What is it?" he said. "I thought I hung the 'I'm practicing, don't disturb me' sign outside the door..."

"You did," said Ienzo. Glancing at the instrument leaning against the wall, he then asked, "What were you playing, by the way? It sounded somewhat...familiar..."

"A song my father used to sing to me when I was young," Emyd said, smiling again--but this time there was a slight sad quality to it. As always, when he thought about his parents, about his older brother...the heaviness he was always vaguely conscious of in his heart grew, weighing him down like a fisherman's plumb line.

Ienzo shook his head. "Well, you have your attachments and I have mine... Let's go."

"Go where?" Emyd said, remembering his previous question. "Why'd you interrupt me again?"

"Urgent business," said Ienzo, leaning forward and prodding Emyd on the nose--Emyd squeaked, annoyed, "_Duke _Emyd."

"Awww, don't--" began Emyd, but Ienzo cut him off, this time by snatching one of his tunic's open laces and giving it a sharp yank. "Hey! What're you doing?"

"Have some respect for your position, _Duke,_" said Ienzo with a scowl as his thin fingers began expertly lacing up Emyd's tunic. "Don't walk around like some uncouth commoner, with everything hanging out--"

"Aww, I see," said Emyd, laughing out loud. "You're _jealous, _huh? Don't want anyone else but you to see my naked chest?"

"Shut up," was the snapped retort, but Emyd suspected that Ienzo had just bowed his head to hide his smile. He finished tugging in place the laces, and said, turning away, "Anyhow, as I was saying before...some urgent business has come up."

"Urgent business?" Emyd said.

"That's right," said Ienzo as he started walking down the hall towards the stairs that led to the lower floor. "Earlier this morning, I received a magical message--from Roxas."

"Roxas!" said Emyd, with a tremor interest. "So he's come back! Gee, sure took him a while..."

"Yes," said Ienzo, and when he looked back at Emyd he was smiling--that familiar crooked half-smile, half-smirk, suffused with barely-suppressed triumph. "And he says...he says that he has got us a new recruit."

* * *

"A Core..." said Marluxia. "What is that?"

"Huh?" Roxas said, somewhat distractedly. He was immersed in a strange contraption Marluxia was reasonably sure he'd never seen before--a sort of hinged piece of rectangular metal, similar in shape to a book. Roxas had been staring at it for the past several minutes, and occasionally moved his fingers over it like he was pressing buttons--though Marluxia saw no buttons on the contraptions, just plain polished metal.

Just one of a host of strange things that had confronted him since his awakening...even the mode of transportation here was frankly bizarre. Roxas had managed to persuade a merchant going into town to let them ride in the back of his cart, which was driven by a strange animal that had a bird's head and a horse's body. So now they were squeezed amongst sacks of what felt like were pots and pans--certainly made a racket like it, whenever the cart went over one of the multiple bumps in the road.

"This thing," said Marluxia, holding out the jewel. "Those children back there...they called it a 'Core'. What's a 'Core'?"

In an instant, Roxas snapped up from the device to stare at Marluxia, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "What? Wait a minute--you _don't _know?"

"No," said Marluxia, with a faint stab of annoyance. "Am I _supposed _to?"

"Well..." said Roxas, still with that deer-in-front-of-a-Hummer expression. "I thought it was yours."

Marluxia gazed at the gently glowing stone. "Well...I suppose. But I didn't have it at first. I found it."

"Found it?" Roxas said. "You can't have just randomly found it, though."

"Why's that?" Marluxia asked.

"Because it likes you," said Roxas as if he was pointing something as obvious as _the sky is blue. _"Here, I'll show you--hand it to me."

Marluxia did so, setting the Core gently in Roxas' oustretched hand. The instant the stone met Roxas' palm, much to his surprise, the light inside dimmed. It didn't go out completely, but it had become much more subdued, reminding him of the faint glow of the last coals after a fire had died down. It wasn't emitting light anymore; rather, it seemed to have sucked the last of its light deep in its core, until it was barely visible.

"See?" said Roxas, handing the stone back to Marluxia--it instantly lit up again. "It only responds to _you _that way. So I thought--I thought that maybe you might have been a Formhel pilot who'd crashed, and the only bit of your Formhel you managed to save was the Core--"

"Hold on." Marluxia ran a frustrated hand through his hair, sticking it up quite magnificently. "Formhel? And what is a Core in the first place? You haven't answered that question, you know."

"You really don't know?" The utterly surprised, almost skeptical, expression was back on Roxas' face. "How do you _not _know about Cores and Formhels? Are you from here?"

"I don't know," sighed Marluxia. "I don't know...I just woke up on the beach, and there I was. I don't remember anything before that. Perhaps I _am _from here...or even a crashed...'Formhel'...pilot, and I just don't remember."

But even as he said this, he didn't think it was true. He didn't know how he was so sure of that, but he _knew _it with something deep inside him...knew it from the same place that his name, "Marluxia", had come from.

"Maybe," Roxas said; he looked like he accepted Marluxia's theory without second thought. "That's probably it...anyway, I suppose I should tell you, if you don't remember."

Marluxia nodded; Roxas went on, gazing pensively at his boots. "Well...a Core is needed to pilot a Formhel. I'm not a Formhel pilot so I don't know exactly how it works, but, well, the Core is the crystallization of the pilot's will. It responds to one pilot, and one pilot only. A certain Formhel can be piloted by multiple people, but they all need to place their own individual Cores inside the Formhel, or else it won't work for them."

"And what is a Formhel...?" said Marluxia.

"Oh, right, probably should have explained that one first..." Roxas scratched his head. "They're like--did you see the, um, the metal parts all over the beach?"

"Yes," Marluxia said. He ventured, "They seemed to be...suits of armor..."

"Well, that's basically it," Roxas said. "Formhels are...umm...they're pretty much giant fighting machines. Every nation has a fleet of them. They run off magic, and the power of the Cores. Only extremely talented people can become Formhel pilots; it's pretty difficult."

"I see," said Marluxia. Once again, doubt forked through him--he couldn't have been nearly as special as _that. _He gazed at the glowing Core, and wondered if this was all a big mistake. Or a dream.

At length, he said, "The beach that I was at...you call it 'The Beach of Misfortune'..."

"I don't know the exact story behind it," said Roxas. "I'm no history expert, but apparently some battle happened some time ago at that beach. Neither side won, and all they were left with was a bunch of destruction. Since then, it's said that most people who come to that beach never come back. That's why it has that name."

_So why would I be at a place like that? _Once again, misgiving coursed through him...and he felt a faint tremor of--_something. _A memory? But as soon as he tried snatching it, it slipped away like the tide washing out words in the sand.

They remained in silence for most of the journey down bumpy roads to the city, Marluxia wrapped in his thoughts and Roxas busy doing whatever it was he was doing with that strange contraption. Marluxia began noticing more carts appearing on the roads, as well as people who appeared to be travelers in general. He saw many lines of weary-looking families in ragged, once-colorful clothing, many of them hobbling and injured. Curious, he asked Roxas about them.

"Refugees," was all Roxas would say about them, looking strangely pale.

After a while, the many separate roads all converged into a single wide one, which led several hundred yards straight to a massive, blindingly white wall. Marluxia could barely see anything over the wall, except for the spires of a few distant tall buildings. He heard cawing and saw white shapes fluttering in the air around the wall--seagulls, he realized. With that revelation, too, came the realization that he hadn't seen a single gull--or indeed anything living--on the Beach of Misfortune...

"The city of Cosata," said Roxas. "It's the biggest port city in the southeast."

_Southeast of where, exactly? _Marluxia wondered. He realized he didn't know where this place even was...he half-considered asking Roxas for a map (perhaps that might even trigger his memory), but just as the request formed in his mind, the cart came to a stop.

Marluxia peered around a sack, curious--he saw that the cart had stopped directly in front of a large wooden gate set in the wall, guarded on two sides by sentries in gray uniforms. Shortly after the cart stopped, the driver hopped off and rapped the side of the cart, next to where Marluxia and Roxas were sitting.

"Get off," he growled. "Free ride's over."

The two passengers quickly obeyed, though Marluxia was rather confused. Once he was comfortably on the ground, he asked Roxas why.

"For every passenger in a cart not built for passengers," Roxas said as if reciting from memory, "there's a tax of ten deinars."

They walked up to the sentries, who looked them over briefly before opening the gates for them. Marluxia was surprised by how easy the process was--the sentries didn't seem very attentive at all (one of them had been clearly more interested in finishing an apple than inspecting the people entering the city).

"It seems rather..._easy_...to get in, doesn't it?" he said to Roxas.

Roxas said, "Well, the sentries have to process a lot of people every day...I don't blame them. Plus, I'm a Youth Patroller so they automatically trust me and whoever's traveling with me."

Marluxia was about to ask just what a "Youth Patroller" was in the first place, but then he caught his first glimpse of the city interior.

All conscious thought immediately dashed from his mind, to be replaced by nothing but a sheer, gaping--_wonder. _He was sure that even in the previous life he couldn't remember he'd never seen anything like _this _before. Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be people, flowing over cobblestone streets, emerging from houses, squatting on the edges of the streets. He saw a group of children in uniforms play games with hoops and sticks, saw young men swaggering down the streets with daggers hanging from their belts, saw the same young men saunter up to young women only to skulk away covered with handprint-shaped bruises, saw families hurrying to and fro, saw policemen riding those strange bird-horses through the crowd, impatiently shoving people aside, saw lines of men in red-trimmed white robes walking with heads bowed and hands clasped over their hearts, saw women squabbling in strident voices, saw vendors shoving carts through the streets and hawking everything from roasted chestnuts to (he smiled a little when he saw it) flowers--saw more than he thought he ever could see, until he felt his mind would shatter from attempting to take it all in.

"So this..." he said. "This is...the city."

Roxas nodded, somewhat impatiently--he seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere, and had been forging his way through the crowd with Marluxia following close behind.

"Where are we going?" he said to Roxas, shouting to be heard.

"To where my friends live; it's called the Kingdom Tavern and Inn," said Roxas. "You can live with them for the time being."

This sounded as good an arrangement as any to Marluxia, so he nodded his consent and continued following Roxas, taking care never to lose the boy--though he found that Roxas' distinct uniform and bright hair set him apart from the other townspeople, so he wasn't hard to keep track of.

After about a half an hour threading through the throngs of people, they came to a stop in front of a building. It didn't appear that much different from all the other buildings, except rather than being smushed between the buildings in front of it, it was standing in its own plot. It was a three-story structure made of dark wood, with a front porch occupied by two sailors snoozing in rocking chairs while empty bottles littered the floor around them. On its facade was a large, stylized symbol of a golden crown, beneath which were inscribed the letters **KINGDOM Tavern and Inn**.

"Here we are," said Roxas needlessly, before scaling the porch steps. Marluxia threw a glance at the drunken sailors before following Roxas inside.

The inside was surprisingly more clean and airy than he'd been expecting, though had a slightly somber mood because of the dark wood. There was a bar on the opposite wall, tended by a man with a halo of spiky red hair who was smoking a cigar; fronting the bar was a row of mis-matched stools. Several small round tables were strewn around the floor, surrounded by barrels that doubled as seats. Not many people were in the tavern; there was one man occupying the bar, and two provocatively-dressed young women exchanging whispers at a table, and a man passed out on a staircase set to the far left.

The instant Roxas entered, the bartender jerked up and almost dropped his cigar. "Roxas!" he cried.

"Lea!" Roxas waved, and the bartender stood with a strange lurching motion and began walking towards Roxas--no, not _walking, _exactly. He was swinging from a pair of crutches, which Marluxia saw was necessary because the man was missing his entire leg beneath his left knee.

"_Finally _came back, huh," laughed the man, Lea, his voice slightly muffed because he was still clenching the cigar in his mouth. "You were gone for almost three months. What gives?"

"It was a long patrol," sighed Roxas. "We went all the way to Akahn in the west, had to deal with bandits and the nomad tribes...I only got back within our borders three days ago."

"Ouch," said Lea, shaking his head in symapthy. Then, for the first time, he seemed to notice Marluxia. "Hey--is this the new recruit you were telling us about?"

_New recruit? _Like they were an army...and Roxas _was _wearing a military uniform. Had Marluxia inadvertantly let himself get conscripted into the army? He hoped not; though he didn't remember anything from his previous life, he was quite sure he hadn't been a soldier of any sort.

"Well...I guess..." said Roxas, rubbing the back of his head--Marluxia was struck by how young the gesture made the boy seem. "Look, it's a bit complicated...we need to call a meeting with everyone to explain."

"A meeting with everyone, huh?" said Lea, rubbing the back of his head. "Well--"

A sudden clattering noise snapped all attention to the staircase--two young men were making their way down the stairs, one a lanky blonde dressed in the loose tunic and trousers that seemed preferred among the men here, and the other a slender slate-haired youth in a white robe. They both stepped over the passed-out man without a second thought, as if they did this every day.

"Hey, welcome back, Roxas!" shouted the blonde, bounding right up to Roxas and clapping the startled boy on the shoulder with so much force Roxas almost bowled over. "How was your patrol? You took so _long _to get back--"

The slate-haired boy glanced at Marluxia and then at Lea. "Who is this?"

"Roxas' new recruit, apparently," said Lea, managing to shrug even while hanging from the crutches.

"Really?" The boy raised a skeptical eyebrow, looking Marluxia over--taking everything from his tangled pink hair to his tattered clothes and probably to the look of utter confusion he was wearing. Discontent stirred inside Marluxia, and he wanted to snap something at the boy that he didn't look so tough himself, or some variation thereof...

"What's all this talk about 'recruiting'?" he said instead, letting his irritation show in his voice.

"You didn't tell him what you were recruiting him _for?" _The slate-haired boy instantly rounded on Roxas, looking astounded and offended at the same time.

"Well, um--" began Roxas.

"That's what we're calling the meeting for," said the blonde cheerily, with his hand still on Roxas' shoulder (Marluxia noticed the slate-haired boy was shooting them both eye daggers). "Come on, everyone, let's go."

* * *

"So that's it, huh?" said Lea, leaning back as he blew a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke in Marluxia's direction; Marluxia's eyes watered and he resisted the urge to cough. "You only remember a name, nothing else?"

"That's right," said Marluxia, a little annoyed at everyone's continued skeptical expressions. "I only remember waking up on the beach, and then a name. Nothing else."

"But you must be a pilot," said the slate-haired boy, Ienzo. "Otherwise the Core would not respond to you."

"I don't remember ever seeing one of those things before, let alone piloting one," Marluxia said, shaking his head. "I don't even know where I am..."

Well, he knew where he was at the moment--the room that the others called the "meeting room." It was a small side room dominated by a battered rectangular table of dark wood, upon which were littered maps, parchments, and books. The others had taken seats all around it--the blonde, Emyd, sat at the end, flanked by Ienzo and Lea. A girl with dark red hair, called Kairi, had also taken to the table, as did a man with graying black hair and an eyepatch, called Braig. Roxas had joined them initially, but had to leave for what he said was "Patroller business."

"You're in the city of Cosata, in the Kingdom of Reinth," said Ienzo. "One of the Defensive Alliance--"

"Uh, I think you're just confusing him more," said Emyd, speaking the truth.

"Oh, I'd like to see _you _explain better." Ienzo shot Emyd a foul look.

Emyd opened his mouth, looking more than ready to start arguing--but Braig cut them off by clearing his throat. "C'mon, settle _down, _kids."

The "kids" glared mutinously at Braig, before glaring at each other, then turning away. Marluxia watched them, feeling slightly amused, though he had no idea why they were behaving in such an immature manner in the first place. Lea tapped on the table several times to restore order, before saying, "All right...so you're pretty sure you don't know anything about this land?"

"I'm sure," said Marluxia, also quite sure that he'd answered this question at least ten times already. "What are these 'Neutral Lands'? Is there a war going on?"

"You could say so," Kairi said. "It's been going on for some time already...ever since the Nation of Vicius to the north invaded Paranth--"

"Start from the beginning," said Lea. "I doubt our friend here knows about the nations and power balances of Tarica in the first place...anyway, this entire continent is called Tarica. The Kingdom of Reinth is one of the largest countries on the continent, and dominant in the South. Mostly because we've got such a strong Formhel fleet--Braig and I were once part of it--"

"The Nation of Vicius is the dominant nation in northern Tarica," picked up Ienzo. "Though they cover a large land area, they are poor in resources and for the longest time in Tarican history, were considered backwards and uncivilized. But recently, something changed--I do not know what--"

"No one knows," said Kairi quietly, shaking her head.

"Three years ago," Lea said, "Vicius attacked and invaded the tiny country of Paranth. Paranth didn't even have a Formhel fleet--they fell instantly to the Vicians. Since then, the Vicians have kept up their war of conquest, pushing further and further south. No one knows what happened, but they, who only had the crudest of crude Formhels, had created a fleet of Formhels beyond any a nation had ever seen before. Even more advanced than Reinth's, I'm sorry to say."

"Now, we found _that _out good at the Battle of Theardan, didn't we?" said Braig with a rueful laugh shaking his head. "I lost my eye, Lea lost his leg. And a lot of soldiers lost a ton more."

"Since then, Reinth and her neighbors have done their best to fight a war of defense," said Ienzo. "So far, we have managed to keep Vicius from pressing any further south than Inera--well, you wouldn't know where that is, but it is quite far from Cosata. How long we can do that, though...remains to be seen."

"Aww, don't be such a worrywart, you'll get wrinkles," laughed Braig, reaching over to clap Ienzo on the back. Ienzo quickly leaned to the side; Kairi and Emyd suppressed giggles.

"So I see..." said Marluxia pensively, his hand on his chin as he digested all this information. So he'd ended up in this land in a very volatile time...a war of conquest...so did that mean... "Then are you soldiers? Is that what you want to recruit me for--the Reinth army?"

Everyone stared back at him, blinking, uncomprehending. Then, Lea threw his head back and laughed.

"No--absolutely not," he said. "Didn't you hear? Braig and I left the army, got it memorized?"

"Then...then what do you want me for? What's this talk about recruiting?" said Marluxia, beginning to feel frustrated.

"Y'could say we're a small force of our own," said Braig, scratching his head. "With our own mission..."

"It has to do with me," cut in Emyd, folding his arms, his eyes flashing. He looked more serious than Marluxia had ever seen him before--he found it difficult to connect the solemn young man he saw before him now with the boy who'd been bickering childishly with Ienzo earlier.

"That's right," Ienzo said. "Emyd comes from the Duchy of Delphia, a small harbor country further north than Reinth. He is in fact the scion of the House of Lantea, their ruling family--and seeing as his parents and older brother were killed when Delphia was invaded, _he _is technically Duke of Delphia now."

"Not that I've got anything to rule right now," said Emyd, somewhat morosely. "Me and Braig--he was the chief marshal--barely escaped alive."

"That's our little group's goal," said Lea. "Take back Delphia. Nothing less, nothing more."

"It's the only way we can really fight against Vicius," explained Kairi. 'If we focus on defeaing Vicius in general, then we'll just fail because there's no way any of us can do something so major. But if we make our goal a little one--free one nation--then that'll be one step on the way to defeating all of Vicius. So far we don't have enough manpower, though...just four Formhels, and one of them's broken."

Marluxia nodded; this seemed like sound logic to him. He glanced down at the Core he was still clutching tightly, its soft glow comforting in the dark room. "So is that why you were so excited when you learned I had a Core...you thought I was a pilot who could help you."

"Yeah, well, you can still help us," said Emyd, leaning eagerly forward on his elbows. "Maybe you don't remember how to pilot, but I'm sure you can learn. We've still got plenty of time before we're ready to take back Delphia."

"That may be so," began Ienzo, scowling slightly, "but--"

Whatever he was going to say, however, was cut off when the door to the meeting room flew open with a bang--and Roxas came dashing in. He stopped before the table, hands on his knees, gasping for breath, looking like he'd run a long way. Everyone stared at him in mutual confusion.

Lea staggered awkwardly to a standing position on his uninjured, clutching the table to keep his balance. "What is it, Rox? What's wrong?"

Roxas spent some time doubled over, panting, but eventually his breathing steadied. When he straightened, his eyes were wide, his face colorless--clearly panicked. Marluxia heard a collective sharp intake of breath, and felt worry spike in his own chest.

Roxas said, his voice shaking, "The city is under attack. By...by Vician Formhels."

* * *

Cliffhanger ending is a cliffhanger.

Yes, what Roxas has got is a magical cell phone, and yes, he is magically texting. And yes, this plot does sound rather like Escaflowne at the moment, doesn't it? Don't worry, it'll soon take its own direction.

There will be action--that is, my failed attempt to write a mecha fight--in the next chapter, and someone you've probably all been waiting for, given the story's main pairing, shows up (though doesn't do much).

As always, any and all reviews are appreciated. And as always, I'm plugging my **Chrysalis Project**, which needs much more lovin' and reviews than this shit.


	4. Three: Strange Sightings

**All That Is Not Lost**

Chapter Three: Strange Sightings

Pairings: MarVex, Zemyx (of sorts), AkuRoku (of sorts), XemSaix (also of sorts).

Rated: M

Warnings: MECHAS, first and foremost. Yes, KH characters piloting mechas. Don't say I didn't warn you. Paganism, religious themes, mature themes in general, graphic scenes, slash, violence, AU-ish-ness, and just plain weirdness.

Summary: He had thought all was lost. Then he woke up on a strange beach in a strange land, a land where the people fought wars with massive machines. Why did he end up in this land, and how is his destiny tied to it? MECHAS, MarVex, Zemyx, AkuRoku, XemSaix

Notes: AKA the chapter in which the Gundams...I mean, Formhels, finally show up. There's some action and my pitiful attempt at writing a mecha fight in this chapter, but I think the real clincher is the ending. Which I recall was my favorite part about writing this.

From now on, updates will be fairly sporadic, but I do plan on working on this story (even as _Tainted _festers...and I swore I'd finish that one, too!). Apparently right now I'm more in a mecha mood than vampires. Depending on whether or not I participate in NaNoWriMo, I may or may not update this story at all in November....in fact, I'll probably not update anything at all. Except for **The Chrysalis Project**. One more reason for you all to check it out!

There are probably issues with the spacing, especially when it comes to line breaks. I just got a new computer with Windows 7 and this site seems to work a little...differently on it. I'm hoping I can figure it out, but for now bear with the formatting issues.

* * *

"The two of us...we'll always be together, won't we?"

"Of course, my dear. Why do you sound so doubting? I promise you...I promise you..."

* * *

"Let's go! Go go go _go! _Hurry it up, dammit, got it memorized?"

Lea's shouts, raw-edged with panic, rang through the tavern; his was only one of dozens of voices screaming, shouting, cursing at once, some from inside the tavern, some outside. Marluxia stood in the middle of the tavern, utterly confused and disoriented. All of the tavern's previous occupants had either evacuated, or huddled under their tables or stools as if that'd protect them. Occasionally, some of the others came dashing through, too busy shouting orders to pay any attention to him. It was all very strange to him, almost surreal: once, Kairi ran through with an armful of knives; another time Ienzo hurled a bundle of herbs on to the bartop and promptly forgot about them; and Roxas kept running into the door and then out, glimpsing around like he was looking for something before turning and leaving. Sometimes he was accompanied by other children in uniforms similar to his.

And in the midst of all the chaos stood Marluxia, feeling like the only sane man in a madhouse.

He'd wandered over to the bartop to inspect the bundle of herbs because he couldn't think of anything else to do. They were vibrant green and smelled sharp and peppery; Marluxia inhaled the scent, smiling as it tickled his nostrils. Once more, he felt the faint tremor of a memory, and once more the memory was gone before he could do anything more about it.

Something nudged his leg; he turned and realized it was one of Lea's crutches. Lea was standing in front of him, scowling very heavily.

"What the hell are you doing? C'mon, get down here!"

"Down where?" Marluxia blinked back at Lea.

"Arrrgh, dammit, I don't have time to--ugh, listen, just come down to the underground level with me, you _want _to see the Formhels don't you? I mean, if you're going to be a pilot for us."

"What?" said Marluxia, but didn't have time to ask any further questions before Lea started swinging away. Quickly, Marluxia followed Lea; he realized that Lea was leading him to a set of stairs he hadn't seen before, set in the tavern's right side. _These _led downward, disappearing into gloom.

Lea came to a stop in front of the first step, so suddenly that Marluxia almost bumped into him. The redhead didn't seem to notice, though--he had slowly extended one hand, fingertips outstretched as if he was feeling his way along an invisible film. Under his breath, he muttered a few words. Much to Marluxia's surprise, the air in front of him shimmered.

"Wait--what--" he began.

"The staircase is warded, only if you have the password you can get through," mumbled Lea in one quick breath. "Now let's go."

He began swinging his way down the stairs, somewhat slower now to make sure he didn't fall. Marluxia could easily keep up with him. They headed down step after step, heading ever deeper in the darkness until Marluxia could hardly see where he was going--but Lea must have been here many times before, judging by how he didn't need to know where to look to reach the next step, even though if he misjudged the distance he'd seriously injure himself.

But as they went further down, Marluxia noticed an ever-growing light. Faint at first, but growing brighter and brighter until it was as if he and Lea were walking in daylight. In the light, he could see that the staircase soon came to an end and led to a narrow hallway.

As soon as Lea hopped down the last stair, he began swinging as fast as he could down the hallway, much quicker than Marluxia thought a man in crutches could move. It was clear he was eager... Marluxia found himself having to jog to keep up.

The hallway terminated in a metal door locked by a combination wheel. Lea leaned against the door for support as he began spinning the wheel, the only sound his breathing and the occasional click as he landed on the right numbers. With a great groan, and then a creak, the door slid open.

Marluxia followed Lea inside...and then stared, his breath taken away.

They were inside easily the vastest space he'd ever seen, a cavern that stretched so high he could barely see its roof, and so wide he could barely see the opposite end. But more overwhelming than the sheer size of the cavern was what was in it.

Four Formhels. Not the shattered, rusted-over pieces littering the Beach of Misfortune, but four whole machines, standing straight and proud and shining in the soft light that seemed to emanate from the stone of the cavern itself. They were dwarfed by the giant cavern, but still presented an imposing image together, like a group of knights stoically awaiting battle...

One of the Formhels--a gray, stoutly built one, bearing a giant bow and arrow, began to move, turning its squarish helmet back and forth before turning with a great clanking sound that rang through the cavern. Lea, balancing on one crutch, ran a hand through his hair. "First as always, Braig...well, I'm off."

He began heading towards another Formhel--easily the tallest of the ones there, lanky and armored in shining red with gold inlays. Its helmet had a circle of spikes radiating from it like a crown, and its weapons were two circles ringed with spikes. Standing beneath the giant machine was Roxas; when Lea approached, he thumped Roxas very hard on the shoulder before striking up an animated conversation with the boy.

Marluxia glanced at the third Formhel, under which Emyd and Ienzo stood. He walked somewhat closer to them so he could hear them talk (because Lea and Roxas merely seemed to be talking battle tactics, which rather bored him).

"So you're going to do this," Ienzo said quietly.

"What choice have I got?" said Emyd. "It's _my _nation they took from me. Who would I be if I _didn't _fight them?"

Ienzo snorted. "Like you really believe that."

"So you're going to stop me from fighting?" said Emyd, a challenging note entering his voice. "Listen, Ienzo--"

"Of course I'm not going to stop you, fool," said Ienzo, shaking his head. "Just...make sure to come back alive. And don't try to impress anyone. If you must retreat, then by all means go ahead and do so. No one is judging you--me least of all."

Emyd laughed, a little self-deprecating chuckle. "You're just too clever, aren't you, Ienzo? But I promise you. I _will _come back."

"That's all I need to hear." Ienzo sighed deeply, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. "I will be praying for you, nonetheless."

Emyd bowed his head a little. "I know you'll be."

Then, to Marluxia's surprise, he reached out and draped an arm around Ienzo's thin shoulders, pulling the smaller boy into a one-armed embrace. There was something to the embrace, something that Marluxia couldn't name...yet caused a pang of _something _deep in his chest...a memory? No, something deeper and more visceral than that...

Emyd soon broke off the embrace; Ienzo stumbled away, slightly red and looking relieved. He kept his eyes on Emyd, though, as the blonde scaled the ladder set up beside his Formhel. The cockpit, in the machine's chest, hissed open and Emyd hopped in.

Braig's and Lea's Formhels had already begun moving out; Emyd quickly followed. His was tall and graceful, and looked significantly different from the other three--it was all graceful curves, no angles at all, and the blue-tinged metal appeared shinier and more translucent than that of the others. As the machine marched down the cavern, it hoisted its weapon--a long, gently curving sword.

Ienzo was intently watching as Emyd departed, but Roxas had already noticed Marluxia. He quickly ran up to Marluxia, saying, "Hey, what're you doing here?"

"Nothing..." said Marluxia. "I only wanted to see the Formhels."

"I see," said Roxas. "You like what you saw? Lea's is called Firewind, Braig's is Freeshooter, and Emyd's is Nocturne. This is the first time they're going to be fighting for real; they've had plenty of practice battles. That's why we needed so much space..." He laughed and gestured around the giant cavern, which now appeared to be much emptier for lack of the giant machines.

All except one... Marluxia approached it slowly. Unlike the other three Formhels, which had been standing proudly, this one was hunched down on one knee, almost as if it was in pain. This one wasn't quite as tall and Lea's and Emyd's, but it was more strongly built, with a pearl-pink enamel-like finish and designs of roses filigreed in shining silver on its surface. Its weapons were two short slender swords with guards shaped like blossoming roses.

"Which one is this...?" he said. "No one's taken it..."

Roxas shook his head. "As far as I know, it never belonged to any of us. I think it was one that Lea and Braig captured from the enemy, but they never knew what to do with it. It's broken, anyway, but we were thinking of maybe fixing it up for you to use, I mean, if that's okay with you."

Marluxia ran a hand down the Formhel's smooth metal surface, marveling at how cold it felt. He traced an engraved rose, smiling to himself. Something about the Formhel...he quite liked. When he reached in his pocket for the Core, he thought it felt slightly warmer to his touch than before.

"I'd like that," he said quietly.

Roxas was about to say something in response, but then Kairi's voice called from behind them, "You guys!"

Marluxia and Roxas turned together--Kairi was quickly approaching them. She'd changed from her dress before into a man's tunic and trousers, and had even tied up her hair, making her look fairly androgynous.

"Oh, hey, Kairi," said Roxas. "What're you here for?"

"The battle's already started," said Kairi. "I was going to go out and watch it--maybe fight a few Vicians myself."

"What! Really?" said Roxas, his eyes widening. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Oh, come on, aren't you a Youth Patroller?" said Kairi teasingly, leaning forward and prodding Roxas on the forehead; he stepped back with a surprised shout. "If we stick close to the tavern it shouldn't be too dangerous."

"Well, I guess..." said Roxas.

"Here, then," said Kairi, tossing him a dagger; he quickly caught it. "Just in case."

Roxas turned to Marluxia and to Ienzo, who'd noticed them for the first time and begun walking toward them. "Umm...are you guys coming too?"

Ienzo shook his head, before shooting them pointed glares. "Unlike you, _I _am sane and do not have a death wish. _I _am going to my room."

He stormed away from them, his robe billowing behind him. Kairi and Roxas both sighed as he departed, looking resigned--apparently they were used to this kind of behavior. Roxas turned to Marluxia.

"I want to go," Marluxia said. "I'd like to see..."

Kairi nodded, before holding out a long knife. Marluxia stared at it, uncomprehending for a second, before realizing she wanted him to take it. He took it somewhat hesitantly, his fingers closing around the uncomfortably cold metal of the hilt. It didn't feel right...he couldn't remember ever holding a weapon before.

"Let's go," said Roxas.

* * *

There were very few people in the cobblestone streets, surprising Marluxia after the din and bustle of before. The only other people he saw besides Roxas and Kairi were running away and screaming, except for a few passed-out drunkards. Then again, he supposed the sanest thing to do during a battle _was _run away, instead of head straight towards it as he and the two children were.

One hand he kept on the hilt of his new dagger, hanging from a new belt--in fact, all of his current clothes were new. He'd gotten rid of his old tattered, salt-encrusted shirt and pants with a slight pang of regret; they were, after all, a relic from his unremembered previous life. But Kairi had refused to let him leave the tavern without getting changed...that girl, she could be so very _forceful. _

He heard the fight before he saw it--heard a voice boom so loudly that it seemed to shatter the air itself. "Face me like a man, you fucking coward!"

It took Marluxia a second to realize that the voice was Lea's. But why was it so _loud_...? Roxas, noticing his confused expression, explained. "The Formhels magically amplify their pilots' voices...guess it's precisely so they can yell at each other."

"Why do I need to?" It was a second voice, just as loud, but unfamiliar--an icy, flat, emotionless voice. "I would be wasting my time fighting you."

"Don't be so cavalier, you don't know what I can do. What I've _learned," _said Lea heatedly.

Then the fight came into view.

There were Formhels everywhere, towering over the city's tiny buildings--many of which burned and crackled with fire. He saw this was because some of the Formhels had arms that ended in metal contraptions like cannons; from the contraptions they shot forth great licks of white-hot fire. These Formhels were black and long-limbed and angular in build, reminding him of spiders. They clashed sharp black blades or shot flaming black arrows at other Formhels, more like the ones that Marluxia had seen before--sleek ones bearing a variety of weapons, made of glinting pearl-like metal. He could only guess that this was the Reinth army's fleet.

And in the middle of the fight, clashing blades, crushing buildings underfoot, roaring at each other, were three Formhels.

Two of them Marluxia recognized as Lea's and Emyd's--Firewind and Nocturne. The third was unfamiliar, a bulkily-built machine in plates of lustrous white and blue metal, wielding a massive broadsword that easily blocked both Nocturne's sword and Firewind's chakrams. Something about its angular construction, and the faceless helmet, reminded Marluxia of the black Formhels--it belonged with _them._

"_Fight back, dammit!" _bellowed Lea, hurling a chakram again; once more, the bulky Formhel blocked and the chakram glanced off. "_Dammit_--Emyd, get the hell outta my _way, _this is just the two of us, you hear, this's got nothing to do with you--"

"Such fury, Lea," said the bulky Formhel's pilot, still emotionlessly. "Don't you remember what we were taught at Halidan Hall? A _true _warrior keeps his emotions under restraint--"

"_SHUT THE FUCK UP!" _Lea roared, charging wildly at the bulky Formhel; it swept out with its sword and caught Firewind off balance. The red Formhel came crashing down, totalling a building in the process.

Roxas unleashed a choked gasp and Kairi's hand flew to her mouth as a circle of black Formhels, led by one with a flamethrower, approached Lea's fallen machine. The bulky Formhel, however, stepped in the way, holding out its sword to block them.

"No," the pilot said serenely. "If that man wants to die, then the only one allowed to kill him is _me."_

Lea unleashed a choked, almost sobbing, laugh. "_Then fight me! _Fight me for real, damn you Isa--"

The bulky Formhel did nothing. Emyd used it as an opening, swinging his sword; the bulky Formhel didn't miss a beat and blocked the blow easily.

"Damn it, I don't want to fight _you," _snapped Emyd. "Where's the General? Shouldn't _he _be part of this invasion?"

"The General is taking care of undisclosed business," said the pilot, Isa, emotionlessly. "And _I _can give you at least as much a challenge as he would."

"I don't--damn you--" hissed Emyd, trying to stab at the bulky Formhel's torso; once again his blow was parried.

Marluxia watched the fight, his head swimming, sick with wonder. The air felt horribly hot and dry, perhaps that was because of the rapidly spreading fires...Formhels were falling on both sides, falling and not getting up, some of them even leaking blood...

So this was a battle between machines.

"That must be Colonel Isa, then," Kairi was saying to Roxas. "Lea sounds like he really has a bone to pick with him..."

"How'd they get here in the first place?" Roxas mused. "I thought we were holding them north of Inera--how'd they get this far south?"

Marluxia found himself stumbling further and further back in the dark alley, breathing hard, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene of devastation before him, unable to block out the sound of clashing blades and crackling flames. He felt, with a certainty unlike any he'd experienced ever since he'd awoken on the beach, that he'd never seen anything like this before. Yet once again, there was the pull of something familiar...what, he couldn't name...

He turned around and found himself staring straight at another person.

His first thought was that he was staring back at Roxas or Kairi, but no; they were behind him, still intent on watching the battle. Instead, the person was...

Someone he'd never seen before. A man older than he was, tall and slender in build, with long blonde hair framing a sharp-featured face. His gaze was turned to the side and he seemed to have only just changed upon the alleyway; was in fact speaking to someone else, out of sight. He had his arms folded, and was dressed like no one Marluxia had seen before--in a high-collared dark coat. Marluxia was quite sure he'd never seen this man before in his life, but something about him tugged at the edges of his consciousness, caused a prickle of familiarity to run down his spine...

The man had waved away whoever it was talking to him, and turned to glance down the alleyway. His and Marluxia's eyes met.

Marluxia stared back in utter astonishment, too astounded to speak or move or even think. The man's eyes...they were a brilliant shade of green, reminding him of the plants he knew he loved, yet were also cold and sharp, like ice...

And so--so intimately familiar.

The man stared back at him, wide-eyed, surprise written on every line of his face. Marluxia could only assume he appeared the same way. But--

He _knew _those eyes, knew this strange blonde man--_knew_--

A name floated into his mind--a name from the same place that his own name had come from, the same place from where he knew he loved flowers. He _knew _this man, had known him by name...

"V...Vexen..."

Saying the name was like opening the floodgates of a dam. Suddenly, against his will, with him barely even realizing what was happening, snatches of memory came flooding over him, whirling around him like a storm--he tried catching on to something, _anything, _that was real and solid, but nothing came--

Just a thousand memories of a thousand different moments. Him watching that same man, _Vexen, _puttering around a lab--watching the stars outside a frosted window--sitting alone and bored in a cold room, waiting for Vexen to return--throwing his arms around Vexen's thin shoulders, greeting him after a long day--standing in a great hall in front of uniformed men who gazed stonily at him, Vexen by his side, speaking to them, explaining something, he couldn't remember what--tending to a row of potted flowers--and so many times with Vexen, shuddering under the scientist's powerful presence as he took him--

He staggered back, his head spinning. Vexen had started speaking now, but he couldn't hear. He was aware of falling to his knees, of breathing hard, of fighting, fighting, _fighting _the influx of memories--where had they come from, he didn't want this, didn't _want_--

His world spun sickeningly several more times, he caught a glimpse of Vexen's green eyes, astonished but burning with that intent that had attracted him so in the first place, and then everything blacked out.

* * *

See what I mean by formatting difficulties? That line at the bottom simply won't disappear!

Anyway, on a more relevant note...there you have it. I consider this first fight mostly setting up a lot of stuff that will be more important for character arcs in the future, so there's a strong air of mystery here, especially with Vexen's appearance. I'll be answering the MarVex-related questions soon enough, but again, it may not be until November is over, depending on whether I do NaNo or not (right now I'm not sure in part because of time issues, and because I have two equally good ideas I'm stuck between. Oh well, still got about a week before it starts!) The arc concerning Lea and Isa will be around chapters eighteen to nineteen, which is about as far as I've got plotted so far.

Keep reading and reviewing. ^^

* * *


	5. Four: Sub Rosa

**All That Is Not Lost**

Chapter Four: Sub Rosa

Pairings: MarVex, Zemyx (of sorts), AkuRoku (of sorts), XemSaix (also of sorts).

Rated: M

Warnings: MECHAS, first and foremost. Yes, KH characters piloting mechas. Don't say I didn't warn you. Paganism, religious themes, mature themes in general, graphic scenes, slash, violence, AU-ish-ness, and just plain weirdness.

Summary: He had thought all was lost. Then he woke up on a strange beach in a strange land, a land where the people fought wars with massive machines. Why did he end up in this land, and how is his destiny tied to it? MECHAS, MarVex, Zemyx, AkuRoku, XemSaix

Notes: Some revelations in this chapter, though not exactly in-depth. The 411 stuff definitely does begin moving on some level, though. And heey, Marluxia finally gets to pilot a Gundam, I mean, Formhel.

Note that I have decided that yes, I _will _participate in NaNoWriMo this year (basically...a contest where you write an entire novel in one month). That means that for the month of November, I will not be updating this fic, or any of my fanfiction, at all. Sorry for the inconvenience, so savor this little update as best you can. And I _might _still update **The Chrysalis Project**, on my fictionpress, so feel free to check it out. Hell, if I like the results of my NaNo, I might even post it somewhere if you're interested.

You shouldn't be disappointed by this chapter, though...it has definitely been my favorite to write by far.

* * *

"You won't die. No, you have _never _died. One way or the other, whatever it is I must sell, my soul my heart my body, I _will _bring you back here to me. Then it will be like you have never died.

"...my poor love. You will breathe again."

* * *

"Hey! Wake up, wake up!"

He groaned and breathed in sharply, but couldn't seem to fill his lungs; it felt like his chest was being crushed by an elephant. He tried to rise against the oppressive weight, lifting himself on his elbows--he heard a rustling sound and a short cry of surprise, and then the weight lessened.

"See? I told you that you were crushing him, Roxas," snapped a girl's voice.

"Sorry," said the boy guiltily. "Hey--are you okay? Can you get up?"

"Yes...I think..." groaned Marluxia, rubbing at his eyes. He opened them and for a moment almost fell over again, disoriented by the colorful blur that greeted his vision. He kept ahold of himself, though, and blinked several times to clear his vision. When he did, he saw to his relief that everything had reassembled into solid shapes. There he was, in the dark alleyway, and there was Roxas, crouching in front of him and looking worried, and Kairi standing a little behind him.

As soon as he sat up, his head lurched and his stomach turned in on itself; he had to turn to the side and breathe quickly to keep himself from throwing up. Worse, a throbbing headache had started...he wondered why he felt so awful. Just what had _happened_...?

"What..." he gasped when he was quite sure that vomit wouldn't come out if he opened his mouth. "What...happened to me?"

"I don't know," said Roxas with a helpless shrug.

"You just--kind of--passed out," said Kairi. "What's wrong? Was the battle too much for you?"

"No," he said immediately and a little more vehemently than he should have. "It wasn't--it wasn't the battle."

That was right...he could remember now. He'd passed out after--after seeing the man in the alley. After seeing..._Vexen. _

Vexen. That man with the silky blonde hair and such intense green eyes...he _knew _that man. Had known that man for quite some time. He could suddenly remember; nothing important, but he remembered that he'd once lived with Vexen, in a small dark space with only a few small windows from which he'd seen the change of seasons. There was a tree he liked watching from the windows, mainly because it was the only tree he'd ever seen--everything else outside was hard and dark and made of sharp angles. Even the sunlight, on the days that weren't overcast, was weak and substanceless and failed to warm up the lab anything more than a few degrees. But he was fine with that, the lack of sunlight, the lack of anything _green, _because he had Vexen. It was true...true that Vexen didn't pay him much attention most of the time, too busy conducting other experiments in his lab, but the times he did, Marluxia treasured...

There had been that one time, when Vexen had taken him from the darkness of the lab through many flights of stairs, into a vast chamber...there had been many men in military uniforms, gazing with cold eyes down at him while Vexen stood by his side, explaining something, he seemed desperate, but Marluxia couldn't remember what Vexen had been saying...

"_--gave me the funds perhaps I could--"_

"_--had too many chances--a drain on the system--"_

_"--just a little longer, I'll show you results--"_

_"The General has spoken. The program is to be cancelled."_

He heard brief flashes of words, some in Vexen's sharp voice, others in cold and slow voices, voices used to authority...but nothing made sense. He felt a terrible sense of familiarity; he knew he'd gone through this all, and dimly felt that the outcome had not been good, but he had no idea what had happened, or why...

Why? Why had some things come back, but the most important things hadn't?

He tried throwing himself back into that room again, in that enormous hall standing by Vexen's side as men loomed high above them--he _knew _it was important--but he couldn't remember--he remembered that he wanted very badly for Vexen to put his arm around his waist, but Vexen had been standing apart from him...but what had Vexen been saying, what had he been _saying_...

"Hey, what's wrong?" Roxas' voice cut rather rudely through his recollections (or _attempts _at recollections...). "Hey--are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he hissed, digging his hands through sweat-soaked hair. Slowly, he staggered to his feet, shaking his head to throw off the last of the memories. They wouldn't help, not in this situation...

"Is the battle over?" he asked, turning to Roxas and Kairi and attempting to act as casual as he could, as if he _hadn't _just passed out and suddenly started remembering aspects of his past.

"It moved on," Kairi said, pointing at where the battle had been. Marluxia looked and saw she spoke the truth--there were no Formhels except for a few shattered hulks littered around, and no sign of the battle besides the smoke curling from blackened and collapsed buildings. A few townspeople had tentatively crept up to the ruined buildings, seeking to salvage whatever they could find. In the distance, Marluxia could hear clashing and shouting.

"The Vicians have got us outnumbered," sighed Roxas. "I don't think their pilots are any more skilled than ours, but there's a lot more of them...we're getting worn down, honestly."

"We'll win," said Kairi fiercely. "We _have _to win."

Roxas didn't look quite as if he shared Kairi's enthusiasm, and Marluxia had to sympathize. He'd never seen any battles before--_that _he was certain of now, now that he remembered pieces of his previous life--but even he knew that the fight would probably not end well.

He supposed he was fine by that. After all, it wasn't _his _fight. In fact...he might even say he had more stake with the Vician side. He hadn't known the world beyond Vexen's lab, but seeing Vexen now, _here, _he was certain the scientist was working for Vicius...so didn't that make his loyalty to _them? _Logically, he should _want _them to win.

But if Cosata lost...

He thought about Roxas, and Kairi. About the strange mixture of eagerness and hardened resolve that characterized the two children--even he, who was quite certain he'd never known any children before, knew children ought to be more carefree than either of them was. He had the feeling they'd been fighting for a long time, sharpened by war to do devote themselves to winning against Vicius and that only.

And the others as well...the resolve in Emyd's eyes as he spoke of regaining Delphia, the concern Ienzo spoke with as he saw Emyd off before the battle, Lea's ferocity as he fought Colonel Isa, Braig laughing and joking with his friends...

True, Marluxia hadn't known any of them for that long, but they were...

They were the people who'd found him, and taken him in without question, after waking up with no memory. Could he just abandon them like that?

In a vague and ironic way, he wondered where this sudden nobility had come from--but decided it didn't matter. He straightened, once he was sure that standing wouldn't give him any more vertigo, and said:

"I'd...I would like to fight as well."

"Huh?" Roxas and Kairi together turned to stare at him, wide-eyed.

"I would like to fight," he repeated, somewhat quicker now.

"Are you insane?" said Roxas. "You're just--all you've got is a knife--the _enemy _is in Formhels!"

"Don't I," said Marluxia, raising an eyebrow, "have a Formhel myself?"

Recognition dawned on Kairi's face. "But that one--that one's broken! You can't use it--"

Well, Marluxia had to admit he'd forgotten _that _little fact...but didn't let any disconcertation show. "That's fine. It was only broken in one leg, correct? I can--work around that. I should know what I'm doing, if I really am a former pilot..."

Now, he wasn't sure how much he could believe that. If all he could remember was Vexen, and the lab--and those men in that hall, _what had they been saying_--then it was highly doubtful he'd ever come close to a Formhel before, let alone piloted one. Yet he had to tell himself this if he wanted to believe he could do anything to turn the fight around. He'd been found with the Core, right, and on the Beach of Misfortune...certainly that must account for _something_.

And besides, there was something else...something else he couldn't quite describe. Somewhere deep inside he felt he _knew _how to pilot a Formhel, even if he'd never even seen one before in his former life. It wasn't the same place from which he'd remembered his past with Vexen, but from somewhere deeper, the darkest reaches of a forest, the same place where he'd remembered his name of _Marluxia._

Or perhaps this was all a load of self-delusion intended to (very poorly) convince himself that he should essentially go out and commit suicide.

He didn't present any of his doubts to Roxas and Kairi, however. Above their rising protests, he said in the same tone of calm authority he'd used with the children at the beach:

"Take me back to the base. I'll show you--I can pilot, and I can fight."

* * *

That was how he found himself in the vast underground cavern again, standing in front of the same hunched-over, rose-hued Formhel. Just like he had earlier that morning...how strange, to think all of this was happening on the same morning, when it felt like days had already passed...

Once again, he found to his relief there was the same sense of--not quite familiarity, but _ease_--about the Formhel. He couldn't explain it, not really. But when he rested his hand against the cool metal, felt at the gently glowing Core...it felt _right._

Perhaps this was but more self-delusion.

"Are you sure about this?" said Roxas, standing behind him, sounding skeptical. "I mean, it's not too late to have second thoughts..."

"Yeah, Roxas will feel responsible if you die," Kairi said. A pause, and then, "We all would."

"You don't have much an option, do you?" said Marluxia. "You wouldn't want to lose--"

"How could you make a difference, though?" protested Roxas. "Even if you _are _a former pilot, you're not in the best of shape and for that matter, the Formhel isn't either."

"It will be fine," Marluxia said, with much more confidence than he actually felt. He found that touching the Formhel, that resting his hand on an engraved rose, lifted his spirits a fraction--made it easier for him to believe that this actually _would _work out. "Does it have a name?"

"A name?" Roxas blinked, rather resembling an owl.

"Oh..." Kairi caught on quicker than Roxas. "No, I don't think so...the pilots themselves name the Formhels. We captured this one so we never knew what it was called..."

"I see," said Marluxia, stepping back to appraise it. He could see that the sides of the Formhel's chest were hinged, implying that it opened to a cockpit inside, but he could see no way to get in in the first place. Coughing a bit to hide his embarrassment, he asked Roxas and Kairi, "How do I get this moving?"

"It probably won't," Roxas said. "It's broken." Well, wasn't he the picture of optimism today.

"Here, let me show you," said Kairi, grabbing Marluxia by the arm (much to his disconcertation) and leading him up to the Formhel. She pointed to an indent in the metal, decorated by a particularly elaborate rose, where the Formhel's heart would be were it human. "That's where the Core goes."

"I just...put it there?" said Marluxia, failing to see how the gem could connect to that shallow indent, unless the indent was coated with glue and he couldn't see it. Or perhaps it was a magnent.

_--one of the first things Vexen had shown him, "taught" even, he might say, was magnetisim--showing him simple, frivolous little experiments that delighted him all the same--a needle always turning to true north--floating stones--_

He hissed and clenched and his teeth to fight against a sudden wave of nausea. It was all he could do to keep from doubling over--_then _the children would be full of questions and he didn't want to deal with that...

Kairi didn't seem to notice his discomfort, thankfully. "No, just--just get up there and take out your Core."

"Wait, you're really serious about this?" Roxas said, turning to Kairi and gaping at her. "You're okay with letting him fight?"

Marluxia didn't like the phrasing of "letting him fight," as if he needed the children's permission to do anything. Kairi started to argue back, but he had more important thing than their squabbles to worry about. Quickly, he climbed onto the Formhel's extended leg and from there, stood--he could reach the depression in the machine's chest now. Remembering what Kairi had said, he drew the Core out of his belt pouch and held it up to the hollow. He had no idea what would happen now--magic? Magneticism? Superglue? In fact, he felt a bit foolish...though logically, he supposed he should fit the Core in the hollow; it certainly looked like it would fit.

He slid the jewel into the space, feeling more idiotic with every passing second, especially since the children were still squabbling behind him. Much to his surprise, though, instead of briefly balancing in the shallow depression and then clattering to the floor, the Core--

No, not the Core, but the metal, the engraved rose, inside the space--_slid open. _He only had a fraction of a second to stare into the open dark space before the Core glowed brighter than ever before, almost blinding him with brilliant rosy light; in a dim way he was aware of the children ceasing their argument and gasping, but most of him was staring incredulously as the Core sank inside the space, receding until it was only a pinprick of light in the darkness...

And then the metal flowed smoothly, like liquid, over the hole again, covering it with a single unbroken rose just as it had been earlier. As if nothing had happened.

But...something _had _happened. Something had changed. When he put his hand to the Formhel's metal body, it no longer felt as icy cold before. There was a heat, a very faint, residual heat, deep inside...he could _feel _it. Not just physically, but creeping into the edges of his mind as well...a very strange feeling indeed. And as he moved his hand down the metal surface, with a whoosh of air, the cockpit door slid open, exposing a gaping space.

Marluxia didn't waste a second to slide in. He only just barely could fit in the cramped space, occupied mostly by the metal surface curving into a surprisingly comfortable seat, and a panel in front of and spreading above Marluxia, studded with all sorts of little buttons and switches, though a wide rectangular area at his eye level was left blank. Directly in front of him were two metal handles, which he realized must be the Formhel's primary controls. He wrapped his hands around them, surprised by how warm the metal felt under his hands. Warm, and familiar...

He _had _done this before. Somewhere, somehow--he knew it now. He'd piloted a Formhel.

So it didn't surprise him much when the blank rectangular space began glowing gently with a rose-colored light--and then slowly an image began to appear on it, at first blurred and flickering, but then more clear, though it held a slightly washed-out quality and a pinkish tint. It was a view of outside, of Roxas and Kairi gazing open-mouthed at the Formhel.

_Move, _he told himself--or was it him, or some other voice, a deeper voice that seemed to emanate from the machine itself--? He knew what to do, how to make the giant machine move. There was _life _inside it, pulsing in the metal beneath his hands almost like the slow, steady collective heartbeat of a forest. Here, he felt strangely at home...not like a man crudely controlling a machine, but like he and the Formhel were one and the same; if he moved, it would move as well.

"_--the General is particularly good at synchronization, at least that is what I have heard."_

_"Is that so? It may explain why he was offered such a high post at such a young age--"_

_"Skill at fighting should not be a factor in considering skill at leadership--"_

_"Oh, really? But this is the _military!"

"_--he will lead us to our end--"_

The voices...they rang in his head, meaningless yet meaning everything at the same time. Once again, he found himself gritting his teeth, fighting against yet another rising wave of nausea. One of the voices was Vexen's, he was reasonably sure; he didn't immediately recognize the other, but it held a hint of familiarity...

"Hey, um, shouldn't you come out of there?" Roxas's voice, strangely echoing, reached his ears. "You've got a good look around, so--"

"Didn't I say I was going to pilot this?" said Marluxia, feeling strangely satisfied with how loud and commanding his magically-amplified voice came out.

"Well--" began Roxas.

Marluxia decided that he had better things than to listen to Roxas' protests, or try to remember what some hallucinated voices were saying. He sat up straighter in the seat, took a deep breath, and squeezed the Formhel's controls tightly, pulling them up.

He figured that was what it would take to make it stand. It did. With a great clanking and the screech of metal, the machine slowly rose from the pained crouch it'd been sunken in...Marluxia felt its every movement as if it were his own. The Formhel tottered slowly to one leg without any problem--he relished in the feeling of power and glory that flooded him as it rose--

But then the Formhel tilted to the side, and he heard an uncomfortably loud clattering sound. He clung to the controls tighter to keep himself from sliding too far to the side, hissing his surprise. Of course--the machine was injured in its left leg. He thought he could _hear _the Formhel, almost, crying out in frustration: it _wanted _to stand, wanted to fight, with _him._

But now he could tell that the machine was not in nearly as bad a state as the others had believed. It had been struck in the leg in the past, most likely with an arrow...struck in the bolt holding together the joints. The bolt had shattered, leaving the Formhel's leg essentially unable to move. Thankfully, it was a problem easily fixed. He wondered why none of the others had never noticed...

"Are there any spare parts around?" he asked. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare bolt somewhere?"

"You're not serious about fighting, are you?" cried Roxas, sounding quite agitated. "Come on--"

"I see--it's broken over _there," _Kairi called back. "Well, we don't have anything fighting ready, but--just give me a second--I think I've got something--"

She turned and immediately scampered off, leaving Roxas standing dumbfounded in front of the Formhel. Marluxia bit back a sigh, knowing that now that they were alone Roxas would try again to talk him out of piloting. He didn't feel up to arguing further with the boy, so closed his eyes, letting his consciousness slip further away, closer to the machine's...

Well, he wasn't sure he'd call it a _consciousness, _exactly...but there was something sleeping deep inside the Formhel's metal shell. Something that had been awoken when he'd slid the Core inside. A _presence, _reminding him at once of a wild and tangled forest, of dark secrets best left hidden, of roses blooming quietly after a rain...

"Sub Rosa," he said out loud, in barely a whisper.

"Huh? What?" said Roxas.

"Sub Rosa," repeated Marluxia, a bit more loudly and confidently. "That's this Formhel's name."

"Um, er, that's nice," said Roxas, sounding confused. "_Now _do you wanna get out?"

"No," said Marluxia calmly, not really caring what he was saying. All he felt was a strange, triumphant satisfaction--as if he'd completed the piece of a great puzzle. He had named this Formhel. It was _his. _His, and only his, now...

Kairi came running back, breathing hard. She was clutching something in her hand, something long and cylindrical and dark...

"Hey, that's not a bar from the outside fence, is it?" said Roxas.

"I figure it would work," said Kairi, shrugging. "It's about the same size and shape as a typical Formhel bolt...I mean, it's only a temporary fix, since it won't last for that long, but for one fight it should work."

She was addressing the last bit to Marluxia. He nodded, remembering too late that she couldn't see it. Kairi had already clambered towards the Formhel's broken leg. Marluxia watched her impassively as she fit the rod into the gaping space between the two joints. It took some jostling, and he felt the machine screech and grind a little, but it managed to fit in the end.

He _felt _it, the instant the makeshift bolt slid in. Gone was the sensation of awkward lopsidedness, the feeling of unbalance, as if he was going to fall if he dared move the Formhel any further. Marluxia waited until Kairi was back on the ground, and then, breathing in deeply, tightened his hands around the controls and brought Sub Rosa to a standing position.

This time, it worked. There was no stumbling, no clattering. The satisfaction already twinging in his veins strengthened, and he even allowed a slight smile to cross his face. Sub Rosa. His Formhel--it actually worked.

He glanced at the viewscreen and saw that now Kairi and Roxas had become smaller--or rather, he was now looming high above them. Strangely, that was a thought he rather enjoyed. He tugged the right-hand control; Sub Rosa responded by swinging its right arm, the sword swishing through the air.

It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. He now knew how to make his Formhel stand and move and attack with its sword...though granted, he wasn't quite certain yet what any of the buttons and switches did. Just to try it out, he reached out and turned a strange circular device, like a combination lock, on the panel. Immediately, with the snicking of metal the right hand sword extended until it was almost twice as long. Marluxia suddenly saw why the swords had appeared so short and blunt-ended at first; they were meant to be extend to different degrees, depending on how far he turned the dial.

"Whoa," said Roxas. "Maybe you _do _know how to do this--"

"I told you, didn't I?" said Marluxia, feeling supremely satisfied with himself. He had no idea where this sudden burst of confidence had come from, and didn't much care. After he extended the other sword, he took the controls again and made Sub Rosa stride forward, its every step ringing through the cavern.

Roxas and Kairi watched, both silent and incredulous. Marluxia no longer had any attention to spare on them. There was nothing for him but a strange yet familiar hum inside his veins--

The anticipation for a battle.

* * *

"_The General has won the Battle of Theardan."_

_So the messenger spoke and so he trembled, shaking with a fear colder than even the air in his laboratory, a fear that he could not control. _

_It appeared that for the time being his hopes were dashed._

* * *

An explanation on the little header (and footer) sections--they aren't just random quotes, but quotes that will appear later in the story. The headers have more to do with overarching mysteries, and will head every chapter, while the footers are more little character moments, and so far I've planned that they will appear in series, each series focusing on one character. The character focused on this footer and the ones that follow will become more clear after several of them. It's just a fun little character-developing exercise, essentially.

Keep on reading, and I'm really sorry about not being able to update. Please keep reading and reviewing; every review helps make my day. ^^


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